


groove

by clairelutra (exosolarmoon), sharpshooting



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Post-Season/Series 05, Teamwork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-11 21:30:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16860640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exosolarmoon/pseuds/clairelutra, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharpshooting/pseuds/sharpshooting
Summary: Lance, all told, is anaceteam player.





	groove

**Author's Note:**

> ......nope, nothing witty to say about this one. it was fun tho.

Once upon a lifetime ago, Allura had trained side by side with her father’s knights. 

It was always an awkward affair—she’d always rushed headlong in, desperate for a piece of the action, and they’d always cut her off, desperate to protect their king’s offspring, and when combined, always resulted in more _tripping_ than fighting or defending—and from it, Allura had surmised that she just wasn’t a very good team player.

Lance, on the other hand, seemed to be a _spectacular_ team player. There was no other explanation for why it was so easy to get into a rhythm, a _groove_ with him.

He protected her flank and made it utterly simple to protect his in return. He telegraphed his movements and stayed in her line of sight—or as close to it as was practical. When he gestured her to go somewhere or do something, the motions were clear and easy to follow. When she needed to direct him, he listened to her without any of his usual flippancy, only questioning her over particularly odd requests.

Simply put, working with Lance felt like swimming through water where there once had only been mud.

It was somewhat miraculous, actually.

“You _are_ getting better at this,” she praised at the end of one training simulation of many, gripping his hand as he helped her up. “You’re more competent than some of the knights twice your age were.”

His bayard deactivated, its soft blue glow reflecting off his chest plate. The grin on his face was proud and a little bit bashful, and Allura’s gut picked up where his bayard had left off, glowing hot as a heat lamp.

“You’re better,” he said easily, even as he preened at the compliment. “You must’ve given them a run for their money.”

Allura smiled wryly, opting to brush invisible flecks of dirt off her thighs rather than answer.

Lance, of course, caught her silence. He shot her a concerned look, and Allura spared a second to note how the sharp lines of his face twisted into gentleness.

Instead of an explanation, what came out was, “Thank you.”

He blinked. “For what?”

What she wanted to say was all tangled up in her throat, tangled in the way of wires when you didn’t keep an eye on them. “For allowing me to teach you. Thank you.”

Lance looked even more confused. He waved his bayard like it was an explanation in itself. “You’re… the only one here who knows how to use this,” he pointed out. “Is there anyone else I could ask?”

Ah.

So that was why.

Allura’s smile felt heavy on her face. “That’s true.”

“And, hey.” He was grinning now, teasingly cocky and putting on airs that she hadn’t seen from him in… how long now? “If a girl as pretty as _you_ wants to hang out, who’d _I_ be to say no?”

She glanced up and away to let him know how very unimpressed she was, neatly dodging the wink he sent her way, but behind the exchange, she was turning over that stray thought in the back of her mind.

How long _had_ it been since Lance had done this?

She remembered, _you’re the heart of Voltron_ , and, _I’m glad it was you_ , and any number of moments with joking repartee and quiet reassurances, but flirting?

Even now, it felt more like _actual_ _flirting_ than the clumsy, arrogant, empty attempts of before. There was heart in his words, weight and warmth in his smile, an open softness in him that spoke of affection, and the more Allura thought about it, the hotter her cheeks felt.

She stole a glance back at him—he was still posturing—and nibbled on the inside of her lip.

“Well… I’m glad you said yes.”

Lance’s smile went a little sideways as he processed that, wide-eyed as he focused back on her. “…Really?”

He’d earned her respect over the months they’d been working together, but only now did it strike her that maybe…

Maybe she’d earned his respect as well.

“Really and truly,” she confirmed. Then, impulsively, she quirked an eyebrow. “Watching you practice your forms is really quite something.”

Lance took the invitation, one hand resting on his hip as he flexed his other arm, looking smug and vain and maybe the tiniest bit flustered. “Don’t tell me you’ve been checking out these goods?”

Allura took his invitation, too—she let herself look. 

She traced the lean curve of chest to waist to thigh with her eyes. It was subtle, but he was solidly built, broad-shouldered and long-legged and fit. He was tall enough that if he held her, she could rest her chin on one of those shoulders, if she wanted, but not so big that she couldn’t hold him in return.

She knew the wiry strength of his hands, the smell of his hair, the way his voice crackled and rasped in the early morning, but as she made her way back up his form, she thought about what it might be like to run her hand down his bare stomach, to nibble that skin behind his ear, to make his voice crackle and rasp like that when it was midday, afternoon, late evening, midnight.

When she found his face again, he was flushed bright scarlet.

“Perhaps,” she answered finally, flashing him a cheeky grin.

Lance spluttered.

She called over the training room control panel. “Care to go another round?” she asked, casual to the point of archness.

“Give me a minute,” Lance wheezed, and Allura smiled to herself.

The benefits of teamwork were sweet indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> compliment yourself on something—anything!—today.


End file.
